


The Art of Self-Restraint

by borkybarnes



Series: Quality Family Time [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alfred's on vacation because he deserves it, Bat Brothers, Bat Family, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce has nice cars, Damian Wayne is Robin, Damian's snark, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick Grayson is a mom confirmed, Dinner, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason and Damian want to throw someone out the window, Roasts, Tim Drake is Red Robin, my attempt at humor, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 02:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17520752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borkybarnes/pseuds/borkybarnes
Summary: Being the children of Bruce Wayne has its pros and cons. Pro: you get to ride in cool cars—Lamborghinis, BMWs, and the Batmobile. Con: you have to sit through stuffy dinners with stuffy people, trying not to stuff your fork down someone’s throat.





	The Art of Self-Restraint

WAYNE ENTERPRISES TO BUY HARRINGSTON ENTERTAINMENT. The headline was all over the entertainment and business sections of every newspaper in the tri-state area the morning after the deal was finalized. 

 

Damian’s eyes combed over the Gotham Gazette article as he reached for his mug of coffee (black with the slightest sprinkling of sugar). He cringed when the drink hit his tongue. “Who made this?”

 

“Me,” Dick replied, standing over the stove, flipping eggs and wearing his ridiculous apron that said: Romaine Calm and Carry One. Jason was beside him, tending to bacon with an equally stupid apron that Dick had gifted him for his birthday. This one, much to Damian’s disgust, had a cartoon donut giving a thumbs-down with the words ‘I DONUT LIKE PUNS’ printed across it. 

 

Damian turned his attention back to his oldest brother and said, “There’s too much sugar in here.” He set the paper down. “Where’s Pennyworth? Why couldn’t he make it?”

 

“Alfred has the day off,” said Jason as he laid the bacon neatly on a paper towel. 

 

Damian rolled his eyes and went back to the newspaper, saying, “Did you two clowns know that Father is buying some entertainment company?”

 

Jason scowled, waving his tongs as Damian. “Can you say anything without insulting us, demon child?”

 

“Pot calling the kettle black there, Jay,” Dick sighed. “And yeah, I heard him talking to Mr. Harringston over the phone about having dinner to celebrate or something.”

 

Damian blinked thrice. “What did you just say, Grayson?”

 

“I heard Bruce talking about dinner with the Harringstons to celebrate, or something to that degree.”

 

Jason paused and ran a hand down his face. “Shit. That means one of those gross business dinners, right?”

 

“Precisely,” Damian said. “Wow, Todd, I’m surprised your brain comprehend that.”

 

“Dick, let me just throw him out the window  _ once _ .”

 

“No one’s throwing anyone out the window,” Dick said, ever the mediator. He flashed his irritatingly bright smile and pat Jason on the shoulder. “I’m going to wake up Tim.”

 

Damian snorted. “Good luck waking up that caffeine-infused snail.”

 

As he left the kitchen, Dick called, “Help Jason set the table, Damian.” Grunting, Damian pushed out his chair and shuffled to the stove, grabbing plates from the cabinets overhead. 

 

“Stupid Pennyworth taking a day off,” he mumbled, placing the plates at each seat. 

 

“Hey.” Jason’s tone was sharp. “Alfred works twice as hard as we do, demon spawn. Respect him. Besides, wasn’t even his idea to take time off. Bruce did that.”

 

“I did what?” Bruce entered the kitchen, Dick trailing behind him while supporting Tim on his shoulder. 

 

“Gave Pennyworth a break,” Damian answered. “And you bought Harringston Entertainment.”

 

Bruce nodded. “Both are true statements.”

 

Dick plopped Tim down in a chair, rushing to help serve the bacon and eggs. Damian put silverware besides each plate, every utensil perfectly straight and aligned, just as he’d seen Pennyworth do it. Then, he sat beside his father and said, “Grayson heard you talking about a celebratory dinner with the Harringston family.”

 

Bruce hummed, picking up the paper Damian had finished. “That’s true too. It’s in two days.”

 

Jason groaned as he distributed bacon strips, Dick following with the eggs. “Can we skip the dinner?”

 

“No.” Bruce set down the Gazette and said, “You all have to be there.”

 

“Fabulous,” Tim mumbled, finally a little awake. His pushed around his scrambled egg.

 

“Stop playing with your food, Drake,” Damian scolded, a smirk growing on his face. Dick took a seat next to him, Jason across from Dick. 

 

“Damian.” His father’s warning tone was enough to make the simper fall from his face. As Bruce cut into the breakfast, he said, “None of you seem very pleased for this dinner.”

 

Jason huffed, “That’s because hours are spent sucking up to suits while we could be—I don’t know—catching up on reading or doing patrol. Something more useful than suffering through a night with boring people.”

 

Dick shoved his food into his mouth. “I have to agree, Bruce—”

 

“Close your mouth, Grayson.” Damian caught Jason’s withering glare. “What?”

 

“When did you become the etiquette police, kid?”

 

“Where did you learn to say the word  _ etiquette _ , Todd?”

 

“Both of you,” Bruce warned. Damian threw a last nasty look at Jason before ripping a piece of bacon in half (with more force than necessary) and handing it to Titus, who laid under the table eagerly.

 

Dick swallowed his piece of bacon and continued. “These dinners are always filled with boring people, and I’m always one conversation away from—” He rolled his head back and pretended to snore.

 

Bruce chuckled, saying, “I, sadly, have to agree with you all. The dinner will be a little dull.”

 

“A little?” Tim asked. “I could be coding or playing Overwatch.”

 

“Love the spectrum there, Timbo,” Dick teased.

 

“Father,” Damian said, “will it be at the manor or at the Harringstons?”

 

“Harringstons.”

 

Jason stabbed his egg. “Great. So we can’t even escape into our room. We’ll be on enemy territory.”

 

Tim sighed, “Enemy territory, Jason? Are patrols really getting to you that much?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“I can’t change anything,” Bruce said. “So you all better prepare yourself for a night of boring conversations on Sunday.”

 

* * *

 

The four of them stood in the foyer of Wayne Manor, waiting for Bruce to bring out one of the cars from the underground garage. 

 

“Do we really need to go to this stupid dinner?” Jason grumbled as he did his tie. Dick glanced at him, sighed, and reached over to button Jason’s shirt up all the way and slide the knot of his tie upwards. “Seriously, Mom?”

 

“It’s a business dinner, Jay. You’ve done this before. You  _ know _ how strict Bruce is about dressing properly,” Dick replied, moving to brush past Jason. 

 

Damian blocked his path. “What are you doing?”

 

“Going to the bathroom?”

 

“To…?”

 

“Check my reflection.”

 

Damian shook his head. “If you go in there, Grayson, we’ll be waiting forever for you to finish your stupid hair. It took you fifteen minutes just to do  _ that _ .” He motioned to Dick’s hair, which looked exactly the same as usual.

 

Tim choked back a chuckle, but Jason wasn’t as courteous. “For once, demon child’s right,” he said, shrugging and snorting. 

 

“Your hair looks fine, Dick,” Tim said, adjusting his cufflinks for the upteenth time. 

 

“But—”

 

Damian huffed, “Power through, Grayson.” A car horn sounded outside. “Father’s back. Let’s go.” He opened the door, greeted by Bruce’s sleek, black Maserati. 

 

As he reached for the passenger door, Jason pushed him over. “You’re the smallest out of all of us. Sit in the middle.”

 

“I don’t take orders from you, Todd.”   
  
“Damian,” Dick said, “please sit in the middle?” 

 

With a scowl, Damian stopped shoving Jason and said, “Make Drake sit in the middle.”

 

“Fine,” Tim said. “It doesn’t matter. We need to get there on time.” He slid into the backseat, Damian following suit. Bruce turned the wheel and the car headed down the hill, towards the open road.

 

“So,” Bruce began, drumming his fingers on the wheel. “The Harringstons have two children. Twins, both Damian’s age. One is Jessie and the other is Joshua. You have to be nice to them, Damian.”   
  
“I’m always nice, Father.”

 

Jason barked out a laugh. “In what universe?”

 

“You two,” Bruce said, eyeing Damian and Jason in the mirror, “have to be civil for this entire dinner. We don’t need what happened in Vienna to happen here.”

 

Damian rolled his eyes and slumped in his seat. Every time he and Jason were arguing before some important, fancy event, Bruce brought up the Vienna Incident. Jason and Damian has gotten into an argument (no surprise there) right as the car pulled up to the venue, and they nearly destroyed a centuries-old painting while they settled the disagreement physically in a secluded hallway. Needless to say, Bruce was extremely unhappy, and both Jason and Damian were banished to the Batcave to do surveillance when they got back to Gotham. 

 

“It won’t happen again, Father,” Damian mumbled as they rolled up to the gate of Harringston Estate. Damian surveyed what he could see from the car. It was hard not to be too judgemental. The property was large, but definitely smaller than Wayne Manor’s land. 

 

“Names?” someone asked over a speaker outside the gate. Bruce gave his name, and the iron gates swung open immediately. They drove to the entrance of the house, where they were greeted by an emphatic valet.

 

“It’s so amazing to meet the great Wayne family,” he said, his overly-friendly smile reminding Damian of the oldest brother.

 

“Ooh, look at the fountain,” Dick said, pointing to said fixture. It wasn’t anything special, but Damian assumed that Dick enjoyed the water coming from the mouth of a rather cute stone fish. 

 

“Mr. Wayne!” A rather pudgy-faced man stood in the doorway, waving wildly. “Welcome, welcome! Come in!”

 

“I’m guessing that’s Mr. Harringston,” muttered Tim.

 

“Astute observation, Drake. Did you come up with that on your own?” Damian sniped. Tim ignored him, choosing to cast a polite smile at Mr. Harringston. 

 

“Wow, Mr. Wayne,” cooed Mr. Harringston, a smile stretching across his lips, “your sons are even more handsome in person.”

 

“Thank you,” Bruce said as Mr. Harringston stepped from the door, motioning the family inside. “And please, call me Bruce. If I am to be taking over your company, I would like to be on more casual terms.”

 

“Of course, Bruce.” The man looked ecstatic. “Then call me Frank. My wife and children are already in the dining room, so if you would follow me.”

 

The dining room was big (not as big as the one in Wayne Manor), but it suited the atmosphere of the cozy yet modern mansion. A red headed woman sat to the left of the head of the table while two kids sat across from her. The girl, Jessie, had her hands folded politely in her lap while the boy, Joshua, played Fortnite on his phone, sounds blaring loudly from it. 

 

“Away, Josh,” his mother said, rising to shake Bruce’s hand. “Grace Harringston.”

 

“Nice to meet you.” Bruce stepped back, allowing the four boys to be the focus.

 

“I’m Dick, it’s a pleasure.” Damian rolled his eyes as Grayson presented his megawatt grin. Jason introduced himself and Tim did so after. 

 

“Damian Wayne,” Damian said, forcing his tone to be light yet firm just as his father’s was.

 

Jason motioned to the painting at the far end of the room. “Beautiful Pollock.”

 

“Thank you, Jason,” Mrs. Harringston said. “You have a very keen eye.”

 

“It’s splashes of paint—anyone familiar with Pollock’s works would know,” Damian mumbled under his breath. Jason made a point to step on his foot as he passed to sit next to Dick. Mrs. Harringston wrenched the phone from Joshua’s grip, chastising him and suggesting that Damian sit beside the twins. He trudged over to his seat, plastering a look of nonchalance on his face as Joshua eyed him critically. Damian wanted to toss him out the window.

 

Their food was already all placed—a Wagyu tenderloin covered in some gravy with vegetables on the side and a garnish on top. In front of Damian was a soup and salad, void of meat. As soon as it was appropriate, Damian began to eat, devouring the greens and broth.

 

“So, Damian,” Mrs. Harringston started as Bruce and Mr. Harringston discussed the finalized plan, “I hear you go to Gotham Academy?”

 

“That’s correct.” Damian resisted the urge to scoff. Gotham Academy was the only elite private school in the hellhole of Gotham. Of course, he, the son of multi-billionaire Bruce Wayne, went there. 

 

“Joshua and Jessie are transferring in next year,” she continued. “I was wondering if you would introduce them to your friends.”

 

Jason let out a barely-audible snort, hissing when Dick elbowed him. Damian’s eyes turned to the sound, narrowing as they focused on his second oldest brother. Through gritted teeth, he answered Mrs. Harringston, “I’d be happy to.”

 

“Mom, I don’t need help making friends,” Jessie whined, good manners gone. 

 

“Damian,” said Joshua, “do you play Fortnite?”

 

“Excuse me?” Damian stared at him. “Do I play what?”

 

Joshua rolled his eyes, and Damian really, really wanted to punch him. Dick cleared his throat, casting a cautioning glance at the youngest of the Waynes, seeming to sense the mounting irritation. “Damian’s not a big video game player,” Dick said. “He’s more into animals and books and… swords.”

 

“Lame,” Joshua snorted. Jason bit back a laugh as Damian’s grip on his knife tightened, knuckles near white.

 

“Mom,” Jessie groaned, “can I go to my room now?”

 

“Honey, we have guests over.”

 

“But, Mom!”

 

“Fine,” Mrs. Harringston sighed, and the girl slid from her chair and skipped away. “I’m so sorry. She’s usually much more courteous than this.”

 

“We don’t mind,” Dick said, all charming smiles. “I used to do the same thing when I was a kid.” Damian knew that was a lie. His father always spoke of how well-mannered Dick was at galas and dinners and other special events. 

 

“Mom, if she can leave, may I leave?” Joshua asked. “He’s so boring.”

 

Damian raised an eyebrow, and Mrs. Harringston exhaled irritatedly. “I’m truly sorry for them.”

 

“It’s alright,” Damian said. Bruce watched the four boys carefully. “So, Mrs. Harringston, what do you do?”

 

* * *

 

As they climbed back into the Maserati, Bruce said, “Damian, Jason, thank you for not causing a scene.”

 

Jason shrugged and Damian sported a pompous grin. Dick whined, “Where’s my thanks, Bruce? I almost stopped an incident  _ twice _ .”   
  


Bruce chuckled and said, “Thank you for your service, Richard Grayson.”

  
“Now,  _ that’s _ better.”


End file.
